


the wind beneath my wings

by sothisiswhatsnext



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: just some playing with words, vague spoilers for 152
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sothisiswhatsnext/pseuds/sothisiswhatsnext
Summary: There's something in his blood that's always longed for the sky.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	the wind beneath my wings

**Author's Note:**

> cel: do you like my wings?  
> hamid: very, very much
> 
> something about all the wings references in the past two episodes made me realize, Hamid has no clue, does he? so of course I had to write a weird little thing about it. 
> 
> title from... one of the songs on Bryn's playlist. I threw this together in like half an hour, the title was honestly the hardest part, so I'm taking what I can remember easily.

There's something in his blood that's always longed for the sky. Whenever he stands in the open air, the wind whistles through his hair, traces the eddies of the brassy scales on his face, and he would do anything to join it in its dance.   
Hamid al-Tahan shouldn't have any reason to reach for the sky, but he's never felt quite right in his skin. Even through the scales slowly creeping their way across his form, with the claws when fear sinks into his chest and skitters its way down his arms, with the embers settled at the base of his throat that flare up as rage builds in his chest, he's never been truly whole.   
The scales feathering their way across his shoulders and back are all that's causing the weight between his shoulder blades, he tries to convince himself. He's not allowing himself to hope at anything else - the magic roiling in his blood that lets him cast Fly is enough, he tells himself. There's nothing more.   
Never mind the fact that as he leaves Shoin's complex, when he reaches the sky again, he would swear he felt, at the edge of awareness, the wind tracing the edges of, winnowing through and around, a sense of draconic wings. He was so grateful to be outside again, to have escaped, even if they had to go back in that cell, that he felt a flicker of joy ignite deep in his chest.   
But surely there's no connection. He imagined it.   
Right? 


End file.
